Chapter 7. Lost In The Woods

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_ CHAPTER SEVEN. LOST IN THE WOODS

"Whoo-oo-oo-oop!" sang out Philip Inglis.

"Hoop--hoop--hoop!" shouted Fred as loud as he could.

And then both stopped to listen, but not a sound could they hear anything like a reply. There was a regular deep humming from the gnats and flies; the twittering of a few distant birds; but with these exceptions all was solemn silence.

The boys had been out in the woods ever since three o'clock, seeking for eggs for the cabinet, and had been very successful; but now the sun was setting, and the last rays were turning the sky overhead into one glorious golden canopy; the forest shades were getting deeper, and as Fred said, he would not have cared only it was so dreadfully quiet, and Harry was lost; and what was worse than all was, they were lost themselves; and this is how it fell out:

Mr Inglis had been talking about the collection of eggs they had in the little museum, and said he would go with the boys to Beechy Wood, to see if they could get a few more specimens; for he particularly wanted two or three eggs rather difficult to obtain, such as the great spotted woodpecker's, hawfinch's, and coletit's.

"Oh, do let's go to-day, Papa," said Harry, clapping his hands. "That will be capital."

"Yes, yes, yes," said Philip.

"No; not to-day," said the Squire; "I have several business matters to attend to in the town, so you had better play cricket in the field, and perhaps we may start to-morrow."

Not the least disappointed of the trio was Fred, to whom the very name of wood sounded romantic; he almost expected to find such a cave as Ali Baba hit upon when out with his donkey, wood-cutting; or that the place they went to would be the identical forest where the redbreasts covered the unfortunate babes over with leaves when they laid down and died. But it was of no use to be disappointed; they must wait till another day, and, therefore, they went into the field to play cricket till dinner-time.

Cricket is a capital game: it looks well to see light, active figures chasing the ball when the batsman has thrown all his power into the leg hit, and sent the ball bounding and skimming far away beyond the farther fielder; then backwards and forwards run the men at the wickets, while the onlookers cheer and shout at the bowler's prowess, as he stops the thrown-up ball, and hurls it at the wicket-keeper, who, with apparently one motion for catching and knocking off the bailes, puts the hard hitter out.

Ah, it's a noble game, is cricket! it puts muscle on young bones, sharpness in young eyes, tone in constitution, and a readiness to meet difficulties and to parry them. Health, that rosy-cheeked goddess, seems to have chosen the game for her own, and to love to place the reflection of her own cheeks upon those of the players, and to make them ruddy brown as well. But, somehow or other, cricket grows to be rather dull and tedious when the players are idle and will not work. Everything, if it is worth doing at all, is worth doing well: the heart must be in it, and it must be done, as the sailors say, "with a will." When you go to play cricket, it must not happen that you have your mind out in Beechy Wood seeking for woodpeckers' nests; or else it will be something the same with you as it was with our lads on that bright July day, when things would keep going wrong. Harry would bowl too swiftly, and send the ball right past the wicket ever so far, for Philip to fetch back; and then, again, Philip would hit so savagely, and make Fred run so far after the rolling ball, which in its turn was obstinate, and would keep creeping amongst the long grass, and getting lost; or amongst the stinging-nettles, where Fred, who did not know their qualities, was stung, and had to be rubbed with dock leaves, when they could find any, which, either from idleness or their unrule-like absence, was not for some time. Then Harry sent the bailes flying with a vicious ball as soon as Fred went in for his innings, and so they were lost, and had to be found; and soon after, while Harry was in, Fred threw the ball up so sharply, that Phil, in catching, missed it, and received a blow in the stomach that made him lie down and brought the tears into his eyes, as much from vexation as pain. Then the sun would shine so hotly, and the flies tease, and the nasty cows had been all over the place where they generally played; so at last the game of cricket came to a stand-still till dinner-time; when, having left their bats and stumps in the field, they went in to the mid-day meal.

After dinner, they returned to the cricket-ground, but matters were worse than ever: the flies seemed to be savage to think that the boys had been having a hearty meal while they had been fasting, so they set to work to see if they could not take it out of them, and began by attacking Fred, then Harry, then Philip; till at last, what with the heat, the idle feeling, and the teasing of the flies, the boys gave up playing in despair, and stood lounging under the great cedar, cross, tired, and ill-tempered.

"I should like to go to bed," said Fred.

"There's an idle-back," said Harry; "I shouldn't I should like to take my clothes off, and lie down under a fountain, and let all the nice cool water trickle and splash all over me. Poof! ain't it hot?"

"I know what I should like to do," said Philip; "I should like to sit right up there on the top of the cedar, and rock--rock, rock--rock, backwards and forwards--looking up at the blue sky, and thinking I was a soft, downy bird."

"Ho! ho! ho!" said Harry. "He'd look like an old cock jackdaw when he's moulting. Ha! ha! ha! what an old stupid!"

"I don't care," said Philip; "I know it would be nice; wouldn't it, Fred?"

"Well, but you couldn't sit there; the boughs would break, and you'd come down," said Fred. "But what makes all that thick bunch of hay and rags up there? Why, it's a nest, isn't it?"

"So it is," said Harry; "why, I never saw that before. Let's get up and get it. There's sure to be eggs."

"I shan't," said Phil; "it's too hot."

"What a lazy old chap you are, Phil," said his brother. "It's a tree-sparrow's nest, and we haven't got a single egg. I mean to go."

Saying which Master Harry stripped off his blouse, threw down his cap, and commenced operations.

"Don't go, you'll fall," said Fred; "it's ever so high up, and the boughs won't bear you."

"Pooh!" said Harry, "I can do it;" and running along under the great branches that stretched away, drooping towards the ground, he gave a spring, and caught a bough, turned up his heels, and so made his way, hanging head downwards, to the trunk after the same fashion as he did on the day of the fishing excursion. On reaching the trunk, he scaled up from bough to bough, almost as actively as a monkey, till at last he reached the branch which bore the nest, where he stooped puzzled, for Mrs and Mr Passer must have had an eye to safety when they constructed their nest; for unless Master Harry had possessed the activity and lightness of body of the old cock jackdaw he was so lately talking about, there was no chance of his getting any of the tree-sparrow's eggs for his collection.

"Well, why don't you throw the nest down?" said Philip, jeeringly.

"'Cos I can't," said Harry. "Why don't you come and sit up here, and look at the blue sky, and then perhaps you could? I'm not going on a thin branch that wouldn't bear a cat."

Whereupon down came Master Harry, all over green, and with the cedar spines sticking through his shirt, in his hair, and down his back, and making him shift and shuffle about in a most uncomfortable manner.

"I say," said Harry, "let's go off to the wood."

"Papa wouldn't like it," said Philip; "and besides, we are going to-morrow."

"Oh! ah! and then perhaps it will rain. Do let's go; we could get the eggs, and Papa would be so pleased."

"I don't think he would," said Fred. "My Papa would not if I went when he told me not."

"But he didn't tell us not," said Harry; "and I know he would like the eggs. I'll go."

"That's right," said Philip, "but I'll go and tell Mamma we are going."

"No, don't," said Harry; "let's tell her when we come back, because she might say you had better not go."

"I shan't go," said Fred, stoutly.

"There's a sneak," said Harry. "Why, we could show you all sorts of things. There's the fox's cave; and the waterfall; and the old hollow tree that holds ten people; and the magpies' nests; and owls, and wood-pigeons, and turtle-doves."

"And snakes," said Philip.

"Yes," said Harry; "and snakes and adders, and the dark tarn where the great eels are. But never mind, you can stop; can't he, Phil? we don't want him. We'll take Dick, and get some rats as we go along. I say, Fred, you can stay in Dick's kennel, and we'll put the collar round your neck."

Now Fred wanted to do what was right, and would not blind himself into the belief that "Papa would be so pleased with the eggs;" for he knew his uncle would not like them to go off in the way proposed; but he was not prepared to withstand the temptations held out to him, for they were enough to turn the head of any town lad. To go to a wood was almost enough, but one with such wonders in was too much--nests and birds of such rarity. Fox cavern, waterfall, and a dark tarn, besides catching rats with the dog; he could not stand all that. And then when the sarcastic remarks of his cousin were put into the scale he was completely done for, and, turning quite reckless of the consequences, he let the scale containing duty fly up into the air, and jumped into the other with his cousins, and away they ran to loosen Dick. But this was easier said than done, for Dick could see at a glance that there was mischief afoot, and nearly ran mad with delight: he barked, he leaped, he tore at his chain, he tugged so that Harry could not unbuckle his collar; and when at last it was dragged over his head, turning his ears inside out, and making his rough hair stand up in a bigger Brutus than ever, and nearly making him blind, he raced round the yard with his mouth wide open; dashed at the old raven, and knocked him over before he could hop upon the wall, where he got at last, and shook the dust off his feathers with an angry "jark;" while Dick, withy staring eyes and his tongue hanging out, ran right between Philip's legs, made a feint at Fred, and then leaped right on Harry, who caught hold of his short stumpy tail as he went down and dragged him towards the gate.

"Whoop," and away; over the field right to the far corner, where the cattle drank from the little horse-pond, which was black with podnoddles, wagging and waving their little tails in their hurry to get into deep water. "Whoop," and away along the lane; all idleness and fatigue forgotten, and every nerve strained to reach the wished-for spot, which was only about two miles from the field where the lads played at cricket.

"Last man there to have two kicks," said Harry, just as he was well in front, and starting off at full speed, but passed in a moment by Dick, who raced away, making believe to discover a treasure every two minutes; and sniffing and barking at every rat or rabbit hole they passed. Off and away--Harry in front with Dick, Philip next, and Fred panting in the rear, hot and out of breath with his run, and asking his companions to stop.

"Whup! whup! whup! yaff! yaff!" said Dick, as they came up to a field containing a flock of sheep, heavy with their long wool; and over the hedge he went headlong amongst them, making the poor timid, stupid creatures run as fast as their legs would carry them, with their heavy fleeces touzling and shaking about till each sheep looked like a magnified thrum mop being shaken to get rid of the water. A fine game did Dick have of it, for as soon as ever he stopped and gave a farewell bark--as much as to say, "There, I've done"--and began to retrace his steps, the sheep would come to a stand-still, stare after him as though he were some unknown monster, never before seen or heard of, and then begin to follow him up, slowly at first, but afterwards at a canter. Now, of course Dick couldn't stand this running away, and all the sheep apparently in chase of him; so he was obliged to turn round and keep making charges at the flock; and, consequently, poor Dick, in thus being so particular about his honour, would never have got out of the field, for every time he chased the sheep away they followed him up again; and it was all the fault of one great, black-faced, chuckle-headed wether, who was so stupid that he couldn't keep quiet, and of course all the sheep kept following him, for he had a tinkling copper bell attached to his neck, which seemed to be an especial abhorrence to Dick, from the way he barked at it. But at last the dog heard a summons that he could not disobey, namely, a long whistle from his young masters; so making one last furious charge at the old bell wether, and actually scattering the forces as he got hold of him by the wool. Dick rushed after his masters, and caught them at last with a lot of wool in his mouth, which was entangled in his teeth, and made him cough and sputter dreadfully.

At last they reached the edge of the wood, into which Dick dashed with a leap and a bound, running his nose down amongst the dead leaves, and smelling an enemy in every bush, and at last giving chase to a squirrel which ran across the open to a great beech-tree, up which it scampered until it reached the forked boughs, where it sat with its tail curled up, looking tormentingly down upon his pursuer Dick, who rushed headlong at the tree, scrambled up a couple of feet, and then came down flop upon his back, without the squirrel of course; but he made up for it by running round and round the trunk, barking, baying, and snapping in impotent rage, while little nut-nibbler gave a sort of "skirr," and then ran up the tree, leaped to the next, and the next, and disappeared in his hole far up the trunk of a great elm. Harry now took the lead down the narrow path that led into the wood, parting the tangled branches every now and then to get through, and all the time looking carefully round for nests. They very soon heard the harsh cry of the jay, who was letting all the inhabitants of the woodlands know that enemies were at hand, and away flew the birds. The blackbird was the first to take the alarm from the jay, and away he flew, crying, "Kink, kink, kink," as he started from his nest in a great ivy tod on an old pollard-tree. The lads soon found the nest, and peeped in, but instead of eggs there were four wretched-looking little objects, all eyes and beak, with long, scraggy necks, wide throats, and naked bodies with little downy tufts upon them. All three had a peep, while Dick snapped his teeth together as though to say he would like to make a meal of one or all of them; but the callow brood was left unmolested for their yellow-billed parents to take care of, while Harry led the way to the fox's cave. This, however, proved rather a disappointment to Fred, who had been picturing to himself a huge stalactite cavern, which they would require torches to explore, while the cave in question proved to be only a hole in the side of a gravelly ravine, big enough to creep in, certainly, but anything but majestic in appearance; while the probabilities were that a fox had never been in it since it was a hole. However, it was called the fox's cave, and that was enough.

The waterfall was certainly better worthy of attention, for a tiny stream trickled over a huge mossy rock, and fell with a musical plash into a little rocky basin full of clear water; and all around it in the damp soil grew mosses and ferns of luxuriant size. It was just such a spot as the old poets used to write about--cool, and shaded from the heat and glare of the sun; but, instead of there being wood-nymphs and satyrs in the little dell, there was nothing but the three young visitors, and plenty of toads and frogs which crawled and hopped away as fast as ever they could.

"Oh, what a pretty place!" said Fred; "do let's stop here. Look, look," he exclaimed, "what's that?" as, like a streak of blue light, a bird with rapid flight came down the dell, perched upon a bare twig just long enough for the boys to see his bright colours, and then, seeing himself watched, darted away again.

"That's a kingfisher," said Philip. "He's got a nest here, somewhere, I know. Let's look, for we must have some of the eggs, if we can. Perhaps the hen-bird is sitting somewhere close by."

The boys then set to work searching the bushes of the little rivulet that flowed from the basin, and no doubt their search would have been in vain, but for the timid hen-bird, who flew out from the hole where, sure enough, she was sitting, and betrayed the place in which her nest had been made.

It was a hole in the overhanging bank, and Harry had little difficulty in thrusting his hand in and drawing out three eggs, which he carefully deposited in his pocket.

They then followed the course of the rivulet for about a quarter of a mile to where it emptied itself into the tarn or little lake of which Harry had spoken. It was indeed a dark tarn, with water looking almost black from its depth, which was said to be enormous, and here some gigantic eels were supposed to dwell, though nobody had ever caught, nobody had ever seen, and nobody ever heard of any being either seen or caught; but still eels of a mighty size were said to be in the tarn, and the reason for their not being caught was supposed to be the depth. As they came up to the lake, Dick ran on first and dashed into the reeds at the side, splashing and paddling about, and here and there taking to swimming. Just as he entered one great tuft of green reeds, rushes, and withes, there was an extra amount of splashing, and away flew, or rather ran along the surface of the water, a moorhen, with her thin attenuated toes just paddling the surface.

"Hooray," said Harry, calling Dick off, "here's a nest; moorhen's eggs, boys, moorhen's eggs!" and off he started to reach the nest; but here Master Harry was as badly off as when in the cedar-tree at home, for the moorhen had evidently intended to keep human visitors away, and Harry found that the coveted eggs, if any, were certainly not upon _terra firma_. Every step the lad took showed more plainly how treacherous was the surface round the tarn; for it was entirely composed of bog-moss-- that pretty moss that turns of a creamy white, tinged with pink or salmon colour, when dried--and soon Master Harry could only progress by stepping daintily upon the little bunches of heath that grew amidst it, or upon the occasional tufts of last year's dead reeds and rushes. But, light as the boy was, he soon found this mode of progression would not do, for, making a bound on to what looked a particularly dry spot, in he went up to his knees in the soft bog, and it was only with great difficulty that he scrambled out again to where his brother and Fred stood laughing and cheering him.

"I don't care," said Harry, shaking himself like a dog; "I don't mind being wet, and, now I am wet, I mean to have the eggs."

"No, don't," said Fred, "you'll sink in."

"No, I shan't," said Harry; "I mean to make a corduroy-road, like they do over the swamps in America, that we read about."

"Ah, that will be capital," said Philip; "come on."

And so the lads set to work, and in amongst the trees close by they soon found a large dead branch, and laid it down across the first soft place, and they very soon would have had a firm pathway to the moorhen's nest, but for the simple reason that they were not provided with woodcutter's axes, ropes, etc; the consequence was, that they could find no more wood fit for the purpose, and Harry's corduroy-road was composed only of one cord.

"Oh," said Philip, "don't I wish we had a lot of the faggots out of the stack-yard."

"Let's fetch some," said Fred, which would have been a capital plan, only the faggots would have been rather awkward things to carry through the thick underwood; and, besides, they could only have carried one each, and home was now about four miles off, while they would have wanted at least twenty.

"What a jolly bother!" said Philip. "Why don't you go round the other side, Harry, and swim?"

"You go," said Harry: "I'd go, if it wasn't for the eels, and the water being so deep; I wouldn't mind, if it was only eight or nine feet, but they say it's hundreds of feet to the bottom."

But Philip did not feel disposed to go, and Fred could not swim, so, to their great disappointment, they were obliged to leave the moorhen's nest,--with at least a dozen eggs in, so Harry said; but, as he had been very little nearer to the receptacle than his brother and cousin, this statement was rather of a doubtful nature; still, as the others had not been so near, they did not feel themselves justified in contradicting, neither did they wish to, so the party reluctantly left the much-coveted treasure, the two wet members of the party--namely, Dick and Harry-- leading the way further into the wood.

And now there were so many objects to take attention, that the professed purpose of the trip was quite forgotten, till Harry by chance spied a woodpecker just entering a hole in a hollow tree, and then called his companions' attention to the fact. To scale the tree was the work of a very few minutes, and, to Harry's intense delight, he found the hole sufficiently large to admit his hand and arm, and this time he was successful, for he drew forth with great care, one at a time, three woodpecker's eggs, which he placed its his cap, and then descended.

So far the trip had been most successful, for they had obtained the eggs generally reckoned as scarce in most parts of the country, from the secluded habits of the birds; and now the lads turned their attention to find the nest of a turtle-dove. The part of the wood they were in was very thick and full of underwood, a large proportion of which consisted of hazel stubs so dense that, almost before they were aware of it, Fred and Philip were separated from Harry and Dick; and when they did miss them, and called out, a faint and distant "Halloo!" was the response.

"Never mind," said Philip, "I'm tired. Let's sit down here and let him come to us."

Saying which he took his seat upon the mossy trunk of an old fallen tree, an example which Fred was not long in following; and there they waited, enjoying the delicious sensation of rest felt in a shady spot after a long, toilsome walk, and thinking very little about poor Harry.

"What a while Harry is," said Fred at last; "isn't he coming?"

"Oh, yes; he'll be here presently," said Philip; "he'll be sure to find us."

After a few minutes' pause, "What's that?" said Fred, pointing to some rustling and moving leaves close by the opening where they sat.

"Hush," said Philip; "don't move; it's a stoat or a weasel. You'll see him directly;" and in a moment after a long thin body came creeping out from the herbage. But it was neither weasel nor stoat, but a very large snake, which came right across the open space they were in--making Fred turn quite pale, for his imagination immediately whispered to him of poison fangs, rattlesnakes, cobras, and all sorts of venomous brutes. But the snake had no idea of touching the intruders on the silence of the forest, but made directly for a spot upon the other side of the opening, which he would soon have reached if it had depended upon Fred; but Philip possessed the animosity of his race against the serpent tribe, so caught up a rough branch that he had previously broken from a tree and slightly trimmed with his knife, and rushed after the retreating snake.

The poor thing struggled hard for its life and liberty, but in spite of its struggles and menacing attitude, Philip struck at it boldly with his stick and soon rendered his adversary _hors de combat_, when the victor dragged his prize to his companion, and displayed to his wondering gaze a snake upwards of a yard long, and very thick. Philip then secured his trophy by slipping a noose of whipcord over its head, and tying it to his stick.

At last, time slipped by and no Harry made his appearance, while plenty of indications showed that evening was fast closing in: moths began to flutter about the different leaves; every now and then, too, came the low evening drowsy hum of the cockchafer, while Fred gave a regular jump when a gigantic stag-beetle stuck him right in the cheek and then fell crawling about in his lap.

"Ouf!" said Fred, "take the beast off. Is it poisonous?"

Philip laughed heartily at his cousin, as he assured him to the contrary; but the beetle saved him the trouble of brushing his horny body away by making a fresh flight, and disappearing over the trees.

"Come on," said Philip, "let's go."

"But how about Harry?" said Fred.

"Oh, we'll go and find him," and so the lads pushed right ahead as they thought, and in the direction in which Harry's voice was last heard; but they soon grew bewildered, and at last stood gazing disconsolately at one another, and then, as is stated at the beginning of this chapter, "Whoo-oo-oo-oop!" sang out Philip.

"Hoop--hoop--hoop!" shouted Fred as loudly as he could, and then, feeling the loneliness oppress him more than he could bear, he sat down on a stump, and seemed half disposed to cry.

"Oh, I say," said Philip, who was nearly as bad, "don't look like that, or we shall never get out of the wood. Don't you know what a many times Robert Bruce tried before he got his kingdom? Let's try again; the wood is not so very big, and we must come out somewhere."

"Do you think we ever shall get out again?" said Fred.

"Oh, of course we shall," said Philip, "and there ain't no wild beasts or anything of that kind, so come on and let's start."

And start they did--creeping through some bushes, pushing others aside, but somehow or another getting flogged by the returning twigs, and scratched by the brambles in a way they had not suffered in the morning. Once Fred tripped over a stump and fell heavily down, where he lay crying silently, but without trying to get up again; and it was only by Philip dragging at him that he could be got upon his legs. Duskier grew the wood, till under the big trees it was quite dark; but Philip pressed manfully on, though he felt completely bewildered; still his good sense told him that they must eventually find an outlet.

On and on they went, slowly and toilsomely, and still nothing but trees and bushes, looking gloomy and shadowy--very different to the appearance presented in the afternoon when the sun shone upon them, sending a checkery shade amongst the waving grass; and at last Philip felt his heart sink within him at the hopelessness of his task. All at once a happy thought struck the boy as they stood in a more open space, where they could see the stars shining down brightly upon them.

"I say, Fred," he said, "hasn't your papa ever told you about how the people used to guide their ships by the stars."

"No," said Fred moodily, "but I have heard they used to."

"Well" said Philip, "let's see if we can't get out that way. I think we can. I know which is the North-pole star, because Papa showed them all to us; and there it is," said the boy, joyfully, "That's the north, and right hand will be west, and left hand east; no, it won't, it will be right hand east, and left hand west. That's right, isn't it?"

"Yes, I dare say it is," said Fred, dolefully.

"Well, when we are at home the wood lies in the west, because the sun sets behind it in the evening, so we must travel to the east, and then we shall be going towards home; and we have been going south, because I was looking that way, and had to turn round to find the Pole Star. Come on, Fred, we'll soon be home now."

"Oh, dear," said Fred, "let's lie down and go to sleep; I've got such a blister on my toe."

"No, come on," said the other, "for poor Mamma will be so frightened."

"Oh, and won't Uncle be cross?" said Fred.

This last remark almost frightened Philip out of his hurry to get home, for he directly felt disposed to put off the evil--the scolding that he expected to receive; but the knowledge that it would be making bad worse, if he loitered now, made him summon up the determination to proceed; and it required no little determination, for, since they had been star-gazing, their joints had grown stiff; aches and pains had come upon them; and they both would have given anything to have gone to sleep where they were.

"Oh, do come on," said Philip at last, roughly shaking Fred. "It ain't far now; for I remember that the wood is very long, but not very broad from east to west, so if we keep walking east we shall soon get out."

So onward they pressed again, very slowly and laboriously, for about another half-hour, and then Philip stumbled and fell, for a spiteful bramble had caught him by the foot, and the poor boy could hold up no longer; he had cheered his cousin on in every way he could, and taken the lead throughout, though his heart was sinking, and he knew the trouble all proceeded from their own folly; but though he kept down his faint-heartedness and tried manfully to put a bold face on the matter, he was beaten, thoroughly beaten, at last, and lay upon the dewy grass, completely jaded, and without energy or spirit to make another attempt, while Fred, seeing his cousin's heart fail, broke down as well.

But all at once Philip's eyes brightened, and he started up as though touched by the wire of an electrical machine.

"Bow-wow-wow; wuph, wuph, wuph!" sounded upon the clear night air.

"Trill--lill--lill--lill--chug--chug--chug--chug--chug!" rang out the sweet notes of a nightingale close by; and then again--

"Bow-wow-wow; wuph, wuph, wuph!" from a dog apparently not far off.

"Come on," said Philip again, with fresh energy; and casting one glance up at the stars, he pushed forward due east for about a dozen yards with Fred close behind him, and then, forcing his way through a dense hazel stub, he made a step forward, slipped, and went down crash into a deep ditch. But he did not stop in despair this time, although scratched and bruised, for he was out of the wood, and leaping up he stood upon the green turf by the side of the white chalky road.

"Jump, Fred," he exclaimed, "right over the ditch."

Fred jumped; but instead of jumping right over he jumped right in, and had to be helped out by Philip; but he shared in his companion's renewed spirit, and now stood with him in the dusty road looking about.

"Bow-wow-wow; wuph, wuph!" barked the dog again.

"Why, I know where we are," said Philip; "that's Mr Benson's farm, and we are six miles away from home. Never mind; let's go and tell Mrs Benson, I know she will let us rest a little while."

Fred was willing enough, and in a minute or two they stood under the porch of the old farm-house, with the dewy roses bending over them as they rapped at the door; while all the time the dog in the yard rattled his chain, and made a terrible disturbance.

"If you please, Mrs Benson," said Philip, as the door opened and a comely, motherly young face appeared; "if you please, Mrs Benson, we lost our way in the wood--and--and--and--and oh, dear! oh, dear; what shall I do!" sobbed poor Philip, now out of his peril but thoroughly beaten, "what shall I do?" and then he sobbed and cried as though his heart would break, Fred helping him him to the best of his ability.

"Why, thee poor dear bairns!" said Mrs Benson; "come in, and sit thee down.--Why, one of 'em's Squire Inglis's Philip, John," she continued to her husband, "and here they be ammost bet out."

Mrs Benson could talk, but she could act as well, and she soon had the two lads upon the snug "keeping-room" sofa.

"Bless thou, my poor bairns!" she exclaimed; and then in a breath to her husband. "Thou'dst better send Tom over to the Grange, and tell them where the poor things are, or they'll be frightened to death; and let him tell Mrs Inglis well drive them over as we go to market in the morning."

So off packed Mr Benson to send the messenger, while his wife bustled the great red-armed maid about; and then with warm water and towels bathed the boys' faces and hands, and brushed their hairs, as though she had done it every day since they were babies; while during all this time the red-armed maid had spread a cloth on one end of the table and tea-things on the other, while Farmer Benson, who had been taking his evening pipe and hot gin and water when the boys knocked at the door, now insisted upon their each taking a sip or two out of his glass. Directly after there was a steaming hot cup of tea before each visitor, with plenty of rich yellow cream in it, while Mrs Benson cut from a sweet-scented light-brown-crusted home-baked loaf slices which were as though made of honeycomb, and which she gilded over with the bright golden butter from her own snowy churn. Mr Benson; too, he could not be idle, so he cut two great wedges out of a raised pork pie, and placed in the boys' plates--pie that looked all of a rich marble jelly, veined with snow-white fat, and so tempting after some hours' ramble in the woods.

"I ham glad thou came, bairns," said Mrs Benson, kissing her visitors in the most motherly way imaginable.

"Ay, lads, and so am I; but there, doan't take on. Yeat, lads, yeat, and then ye'll soon be all right again."

And the boys choked down their sobs, and did "yeat" in a way that made their worthy host and hostess smile with pleasure, as well as to see the faces that a few minutes before looked so worn, pale, and wretched, brightening up under the treatment their complaint was receiving.

All at once Philip came to a stand-still, and said, "I wonder where Harry is?"

"What! was he out with thee?" said the farmer and his wife.

"Yes," said Philip, "and he had got Dick with him."

"Ah!" said the farmer, "I don't know Dick. Who's he?"

"Why, our rough dog," said Philip; "the ratter."

"Oh, ah, ha!" said the farmer; "so he had Dick with him, had he?"

"Yes," said Philip, mournfully, and with another great sob creeping up his throat.

"Theer, theer," said Mr Benson, "doan't do that, bairn. He's safe enough if he's got that dog wi' him; he'd be sewer to find the way out o' the wood."

This seemed to act as a kind of comfort to Philip, who resumed his meal, but only to find out a new trouble directly after. "Where's my snake?" he exclaimed, jumping up, and looking at the end of the rough stick he had brought in with him. But nobody knew, so nobody replied to his question; the snake was gone, for it had not been even remembered all through the time of their bewilderment, and now that it was brought to mind there was not even a trace of the whipcord.

"Now, my dears," said Mrs Benson, seeing that the lads had finished their meal,--"now, my dears, I have had clean sheets put on the best bed, so, if I was you, I should go and have a good rest."

But Mrs Benson's motherly ideas were put to the rout by the sound of wheels and directly after a horse was pulled up at the gate. Some one rapped at the door, and, upon its being opened, in rushed Dick, closely followed by Mr Inglis, Harry, and Mr Benson's lad, Tom, who had not gone far upon the road before he met the above party in search of the lost ones. They had been making inquiries all down the road at every cottage they passed, and it was during one of these stoppages that Tom recognised Mr Inglis's voice, and brought him on to the farm.

The first act of Dick on entering the room was to leap upon Philip and Fred, and bark as loudly as he could--scampering round the place, and at last misbehaving so much that he had to be turned out, to stay outside the door, howling, till his master was ready to start again.

Harry, who looked a perfect scarecrow, grinned with delight upon seeing his lost companions found, while Mr Inglis warmly thanked the farmer and his wife for their hospitality, and then, refraining from uttering any words of blame, hurried the lads into the four-wheeled chaise, so as to hasten home to quiet the alarm of Mrs Inglis, who was, of course, in a state of great anxiety.

"Good-byes" were said, and promises made to go and see Mrs Benson again, and then off trotted the horse, and round spun the wheels; while Dick every now and then gave a short bark, evidently of pleasure at being allowed to ride. As for Philip and Fred, they were both soon fast asleep, with their heads nodding and rolling about enough to shake them off.

At last the Grange was reached, Mrs Inglis's fears set at rest, and, half-asleep, all three boys were soon up in their bedrooms, and the next morning, when the eight o'clock bell rang, more soundly asleep than ever, so that they had to be shaken and shouted at to make them get up, which they did at last, yawning fearfully, and feeling so stiff, sore, and aching, that they could scarcely move. _

Read next: Chapter 8. A Short Scolding

Read previous: Chapter 6. Down By The Sea

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